Chapter Text
Time was passing as a revenge now.
It’s petty. Spiteful, even.
For weeks, months, years - For as long as Edward Teach had known Stede Bonnet, he had been counting down the seconds until this day.
Their entire relationship had been a series of Ed asking Stede questions, it seemed. Casual questions, breathless questions, impatient questions that could not wait to be answered in the most effortlessly fascinating way - A way that just brought up more questions Ed could not help but ask.
Sometimes he would ask questions as a way to pass the time, but hardly was it ever so simple as that. Stede captivated him in a way that was criminal, and the time flew by so mercifully quick when all that was on Ed’s mind was the next possible answer he would be blessed with.
Of course, there was an ulterior motive behind all the questions - Stede had once told him that there seemed to be an ulterior motive behind everything he did, and the man was as perceptive as always because there was an underlying reason why Ed ceaselessly asked so many questions.
He wanted to be ready. He wanted to be prepared. When the moment came where he could finally stop counting down the time until there was only one question left to ask Stede Bonnet, Edward Teach wanted to be confident in the answer.
And he was.
The only issue was that he hadn’t been able to yet ask the question.
And that was where time’s sudden agonizingly slow, cruel passage decided to make itself known.
Edward’s knee was starting to hurt, standing there for as long as he had.
It hadn’t been that long. Twenty-seven minutes and thirty-four seconds. Thirty-five. Thirty-six.
He was trying not to count.
Not much time had to pass before his knee start to act up and give him trouble, so he knew there was no use utilizing it as a passage of time. The passage of time didn't care about the dull ache that began to spread through his joints, like English Ivy ready to destabilize the foundation.
It had been stupid of him not to wear the knee brace. Silly. That’s what Stede would have called the decision. That’s what Stede would call the decision when he finally appeared and would notice instantly - Ed never seemed to have to say anything - that his partner was so heavily favoring one side.
Edward hadn’t thought he’d be waiting this long. Not that a long time had passed, because it hadn’t yet. It had only been twenty-seven minutes and fifty-seven seconds. It had only been twenty-eight minutes, and that was not a long time.
No, a long time was the two days they had gone without speaking when Stede had accidentally let it slip in a red carpet interview that he was seeing someone. A long time was the interspersed weeks of connection, where - with Stede so caught up in new projects and Q&As and the unstoppable glamour of Hollywood, and Ed so occupied with the restaurant and the staff and, well, his obligations weren’t nearly as interesting, but still - brief text messages in the morning and maybe late at night were all they had to give to each other. A long time was the five months conducted seven thousand miles apart when Stede was contractually obligated to spend almost half a year in New Zealand during the filming of his second most successful movie.
A long time was the three and a half years it had taken Ed to work up the courage to ask this final question.
A long time was the forty-four years it had taken for Edward Teach to meet Stede Bonnet in the first place.
Twenty-nine minutes was not a long time.
Edward hadn’t worn the knee brace - Despite the fact that he would likely need it to rise up from one knee without assistance - because it would show underneath the simple black dress pants he was wearing. And he didn’t really care, and he knew without a doubt that Stede wouldn’t care and, in retrospect, those were the only opinions that truly mattered.
It was simply a precaution. That was it. There was no guarantee that Stede could arrive at the deserted train station inconspicuously. Stede Bonnet couldn’t do anything inconspicuously. Not even secretly date someone.
The chances of anyone - Paparazzi, a crazed fan even - following his flamboyant lavender-purple car was more likely than it would be for a normal couple. A normal couple wouldn’t have a flamboyant lavender-purple car - A car that was very easy to follow.
What if, just as Ed was about to propose, someone snapped a picture? That would mean when the news broke of
Famous Actor Stede Bonnet, 47, Proposed To In Dingy Train Station - PICTURES -
-all the world would pay attention to was this weird fucking rumple in this unrecognized nobody’s stupid pants.
He didn’t want that. And even if Stede said he didn't care what the public thought, Ed had seen the signs before. Ed wouldn’t miss that slight furrow of those reddish eyebrows when he caught a glimpse of a scandalous headline or the way his vision would glaze over reading the printed words again and again.
Maybe Stede didn’t care about what the public thought, but he cared about his career, and his career was undoubtedly controlled by publicity.
So he hadn’t worn the stupid knee brace, and the pain was starting to sharpen, and he still didn’t know where Stede was.
Thirty minutes was a bit of a long time, in retrospect.
Edward had spent most of those thirty minutes standing. He didn’t mind it much. Pacing back and forth across the platform was a good way to release some of the nervous energy building up in his chest.
It had worked for about twenty-nine minutes.
After that, Ed sat on one of the hard wooden benches lining the outdoor platform. It was still light outside, but the time was coming when it wouldn’t be for much longer. Orange-tinged clouds were beginning to streak across the sky. With little else to do, he studied the light.
If this had been three and a half years ago, Edward would still have been staring at the sky, but he would have had much less time to do it. He probably would have been loitering around the back door of his restaurant, finishing off the final dregs of whisky from the flask Izzy had gotten him years prior. That initial container would be what got him through the morning shift. The next couple of refills always went down quicker than the first, and so those next three or four downings would get him through the dinner rush. The night would end, and more often than not, he would find the original bottle and finish it off with the gifter of the flask. Sometimes he would fall asleep at the bar, and that would always be a great night because it would save him the fifteen-minute commute in the morning.
His nights radically changed after Stede entered his life.
For starters, he lost the flask. Literally. He had set it down on Stede’s counter one night after a late restaurant shift. It had been a busy night - Too busy to drink, and Edward wanted to quickly fix that issue and the issue of all the courage he ever had fleeing at the first step he took inside Stede’s ostensibly gigantic house. It was more than that, though; the relentless shift with its myriad of problems had left Ed in a shitty mood, and he was worried about bringing souring the environment.
People had always told him Drunk Ed was more fun than Sober Ed, and he didn’t want to wait until Stede made that choice as well.
But Stede never gave him a chance; he never left his side. And Ed - Well, Ed had never wanted to leave his side.
When, hours later, he finally had a moment to himself after Stede repeatedly apologized and excused himself when having to take a call from his agent, he realized that he hadn’t thought about draining the flask all night.
It had been a good night, and it took a while for Ed to even realize that. His idea of a good night had always been something along the lines of managing to wake up in your own bed despite not having any memories of the past twelve hours.
A night with Stede was not like that. They had taken turns watching movies - Bad movies, ridiculously cheesy ones with bad acting and worse plotlines - and eating popcorn and laughing so hard that Stede almost choked on said popcorn - Luckily, as per his restaurant experience, Ed was more than well-versed in the Heimlich Maneuver.
By the end of it all, when Ed was reluctantly trying to take his leave, and Stede was shyly inviting him to avoid the drive home and stay the night, Ed had actually managed to forget about the shitty interactions with customers that had first consumed his mood. He wasn't the only one.
Stede had later told him that the night had served to make him forget about the depressing conversation he had with his agent - Considered too old for a part, Stede had failed to secure a titular role in one of his favorite book's official film adaptation.
“No, no, it was fine. At first, I was rather disconcerted at being called, essentially, an old man, but you know how Nigel is. Then I thought about how, if I were a young fan, would I want to see some old codger take up space where he wasn’t meant to? I don’t think so. And besides, I wasn’t able to dwell on the news for very long that night. There were much more important matters to attend to.”
They had both been sober. In fact, the only thing Ed had drunk that night was tea. And the flask had been forgotten on the side of the counter, next to a bowl empty of remnants save a few kernels.
Ed had always blushed when Stede recounted how he had felt that night, and then Ed would ignore the way his face heated up, and then Stede might point out the advantage his beard gave him or something along those lines.
In fact, that was something Stede would halfheartedly complain about when they grew a little more comfortable with each other. Stede would be sitting on a couch he had offhandedly dismissed as an art project gone wrong. (It was a strange piece of furniture, composed of large interwoven tubes of fabric, more akin to a velvet nest than anything to sit on. Ed knew Stede’s dismissal was all bluster. He loved that couch.) Ed’s head would be situated rather comfortably in his lap, not bothering to pretend to look anywhere else other than up into the soft eyes of the one brushing a gentle hand through his thick curls.
“You know, it’s not fair that you have all this gorgeous hair.” Stede would say. “How are the rest of us supposed to compete? I’ve worked with the spokeswoman of Pantene, and her hair dare not shed even a light to yours.”
That was the only time Ed could force himself to look away from that unabashedly open and kind gaze. He could feel his face heating up, and Stede would push right past the generous compliment, as if it was no big deal.
“And talking about hair, you do know this beard gives you a secret advantage, don’t you? I can never tell what you’re thinking or feeling, for that matter! This absolutely distinguished-looking facial hair covers it all up.” The hand would drift down to the mane in question, and the brushing would resume, as tender as always.
Ed knew he was only joking around, partially because Edward was known for wearing his feelings rather openly on his sleeve. But he played along for Stede.
“Oh, well, I can shave all off if you’d prefer. Don’t you Hollywood types prefer your men clean-shaven?”
“I don’t know about these so-called Hollywood types, but I can tell you exactly how I prefer my men.”
“Do tell.”
“With a beard as respectable as any pirate’s,” Stede would proudly proclaim, quickly changing his tune at the mere mention of a shave, “And with the body that beard is attached right here in my lap.”
Ed shifted around for a moment as if looking for a more comfortable position.
“Well, I rather think I fit those conditions quite nicely.”
“I think so as well.”
“So no shave then?”
“Goodness no. I can’t imagine you without your bread. It would simply break my heart to see.”
It was an ever-growing bundle of nerves that had Ed running a hand through his beard now as a dull ache in his lower back began to make itself known. His ass was falling asleep, a rather discomforting tingling sensation of pins and needles migrating from cheek to cheek as he shifted first one side, then the other.
Forty-five minutes passed before he thought about calling Stede. Okay, well, that wasn’t exactly true. Seven minutes passed before he thought about calling Stede. Forty-five minutes was the benchmark for when he genuinely thought about calling Stede.
It wasn’t like Stede to show up late.
Only one time during their entire relationship had Stede been late, and it was to a dinner Ed had made at his own house, for god's sake. Not really the formal black tie event that one needed to be on time for. It had been in the early stages, too; Ed had worried the entire ten minutes. Had the dinner invite been too much? Too soon? This was a goddamn celebrity he was trying to court, after all. Stede fucking Bonnet had Michelin Star chefs ready and willing at his disposal, so what the hell was nobody Edward Teach trying to prove with his cooking skills?
Izzy had been furious at him too, when he told him the date night plans. He accused Ed of pandering to the wealthy. Wasn’t it enough that day in-day out, he was running a restaurant, the very core of the service industry? Was that what he really wanted to spend his free time doing, another act of servitude?
The answer, embarrassingly, had been yes. Of course, Ed really hadn’t thought it through the way that Izzy had, but he had thought about how he loved cooking. The act - servitude or no - was as natural to him as breathing was. The sharp smell of diced onions, inhale, the heavenly sizzling of butter and meat, exhale. Motions of the arm and the wrist that muscle memory took care of him; he didn’t need to think when cooking.
Back when the restaurant first opened, and the staff consisted of three people, including himself and Izzy, the only breaks he got were in the kitchen. Every menu item he had crafted himself, he knew the ingredients inside and out, and with the prep work always taken care of in the morning, all he had to do was turn auto-pilot on and sink into the repetition of orders made.
By the time homemade dinner with Stede rolled around, Ed wasn’t present in the kitchen very often. He didn’t need to be. Time spent in the restaurant wasn’t time spent cooking, and sometimes, well, sometimes, he missed it.
The time spent preparing dinner for Stede was heavenly. There was no dinner rush, no red-checked ticket that needed to be put up in under seven minutes, and no angry customer waiting to send it back.
Ed’s cooking experience had been global when he was younger, and creativity was part of the game. There was a myriad of different dishes that could have been made, but Ed kept it simple. Cheeseburgers. Home-cut fries.
Maybe he just wanted to show Stede that he was simple. Nothing greater to expect, no reason to wait for anything more.
And then nine of those ten minutes had passed, and two cheeseburgers were slowly getting cold with no heat lamp to keep them warm - Two more minutes and the line cook inside of Ed would have been compelled to throw the food out.
But then there had been a knock, and Ed didn’t even have time to think before he was opening the door, and there was Stede, barreling through with a flurry of apologies stirring up the atmosphere - Apologies which had continued through dessert. Ed couldn't hold those measly ten minutes against him; he would find out soon he could never hold anything against Stede, but maybe that would change with these forty-five minutes.
He didn’t think that was very likely, though.
How could he, when Stede just tore into the burger - as gracefully as he had ever seen someone demolish food - as if he were a starving man? Stede Bonnet, A-Lister Celebrity, sat there in front of Edward Teach in his simple apartment and honestly started moaning around the bites of the sandwich, as if it were actual manna from heaven.
"What on earth do I have to do to contract you to cook such divine meals for me, breakfast, lunch, and supper?” Stede had asked.
Ed had raised an eyebrow.
Stede balked. “Just breakfast? Just supper? I will pay you millions.”
All Stede would have to do was sit there and keep moaning just like that.
The beard worked to his advantage once more.
“Billions?" Stede pretended to sound desperate. "State your terms. What do you want me to do?”
Ed didn’t say it. He didn’t say anything. He was too worried about shattering whatever this was. That was the interesting thing. It didn’t feel fragile. It felt solid, more stable than anything Ed had possessed in the past…in a while. Whatever this was, and he was too scared to even put a name to it, it felt unbreakable. But that didn’t mean it was. And Ed was terrified that one wrong move, one wrong word would send it fracturing into a million tiny pieces.
But what he wanted to tell Stede at that moment was all he had to do was sit there. Just sit right there. Just stay right in front of him. And Ed would do anything he was asked of.
Ed would do anything at all for Stede. If that meant waiting an hour in an empty train station, he would gladly do it.
The train station wasn’t empty on his behalf. It would be nice if he had that kind of power. Stede had that kind of power, but he didn’t. It just wasn’t used very often. The train station was a fifteen-minute walk from his hometown, the sad little grimy hamlet he grew up in that he hadn’t worked up the courage to leave until seven years ago.
Ed had taken Stede to visit where he had grown up - Or, more accurately, Stede had forced Ed to show him where he had grown up. It hadn’t been a very long trip. There wasn't much to see. He hadn’t introduced Stede to anyone, as much as the angry little kid inside of him wanted to show off his celebrity boyfriend - There was no one left to brag to.
The town hadn’t changed much in the past seven years. A new corner store had popped up, and that development was the most exciting part of the trip. Stede had acted charmed by it at all, as if visiting the place Ed had grown up, gazing upon his dilapidated childhood home, was some sort of sacred pilgrimage.
Ed hadn’t wanted to show off the part of his life that didn’t exist anymore, but there was one place he hadn’t minded revealing.
They had walked there, following the train tracks that led out of town like a couple of teenage boys up to no good, until they reached the empty station. It was always empty, used more as a pit stop than anything else, as it was rare for travelers to be visiting this part of the country.
A few times a week, the train would roll by. Ed could remember lying in his bed, gaze trained up at the ceiling but seeing only the possibilities of a life that wasn’t here, a life that was only a fifteen-minute walk away.
When the pair had reached the train station, Ed had told him a clipped version of that same want, as they sat down on the very bench he was sitting on now. It wasn’t enough for Stede; he drew more out of him. He was always able to draw anything, everything, out of him.
“Finally, I had saved enough money for a down payment on the property, so I left. Didn’t look behind me. There was nothing left for me.”
Stede had tilted his head, a questioning response already on his lips. His gaze was so soft it was difficult for Ed to hold it. But then, there was nowhere else he wanted to look.
“You didn’t miss it?”
“Not even a little bit. There were things that I missed when I was living here. I missed the things that I never had. I missed my restaurant when it was just an idea in my head. I missed you, and I hadn’t even met you yet.”
This had been two years into their relationship; Ed wasn’t as scared of breaking it. He wasn’t sure that he could. It was a nice belief to have.
“I think that’s a Carly Rae Jepsen lyric.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
Stede had nudged his shoulder. Ed had nudged him back.
“So this train took you to the things that you missed?”
“Yup. Took me to my new life. Never thought I would see it again, honestly. Never thought I would go backwards.”
“You’re not going backward, Ed. You’re just…looking behind you.”
“Never thought I would look behind me either.”
“Just on to the future with you, huh?”
“If the future has you in it, then yes,” Ed had replied casually, easily. It was so easy to say things like that with Stede. It was so easy to believe.
“You know…” Ed had continued, his voice still light with nonchalance, “This train goes even further past the city. I know it does. What if one day we board it and just keep on riding?”
Stede had looked at him quizzically. “You would leave the restaurant?”
“Eventually, yes. But, I mean, this wouldn't have to be forever. You have a life in the city, your whole career; I would never take that from you.” The words had come out in a rush, as if he had given Stede the time to consider each one, he wouldn’t like to know the answer. “And I have the restaurant, yes, but maybe, just for a little while, we could…We could have a new life. A life together. Izzy can take care of it for a little while and Nigel - Well, Nigel can go eat a fat one if I’m being honest, but-”
“A honeymoon.” Stede had interrupted.
“What?”
“A honeymoon. That’s what you’re suggesting. A break from our individual lives, the start of a new one. Together.”
“Together.” Ed had repeated. He had practically sighed the word. Izzy would be disgusted with him. He couldn’t have cared less.
“Well, yes.” He had to clear his throat. “A honeymoon, sure. That’s what I was suggesting.”
Ed hadn't been able to tell if he was speaking loudly; his pounding heartbeat had drowned everything else out. There was another word for what he had suggested: A vacation. Someone else would have just thought he was talking about a vacation - It wasn’t as if he had suggested retirement.
But Stede hadn’t said vacation. He had said honeymoon.
Well, traditionally speaking, a few things had to come before the honeymoon.
Stede had known he was supposed to meet Edward at the train station an hour and fifteen minutes ago. Ed had made it very clear, maybe too clear , that there was a big and important time-sensitive event taking place that he couldn’t possibly be late for.
Stede had simply laughed and kissed away his worries.
I’ll be there, love, I promise.
Ed was standing up again now. He was pacing. He had fielded the calls from Izzy, from Lucius, from Frenchie, from everyone waiting at the surprise party - The only stop they would make before heading out.
He called Stede. Immediate voicemail. He called him twice more, each time more insistent that this one would be the call that was picked up, that he would be subject once more to a flurry of apologies, and an I’m on my way!
It was nice hearing his voice, at least. Even if the message was pre-recorded.
Ed continued to pull a Stede and refused to answer any of the calls from their friends. Acknowledging their questions, their worry, it might make the whole situation real. And right now, the only thing Edward could feel was the pain in his knee.
It was more difficult to ignore text messages, however, with so little to do aside from reminisce. And, once he saw the headline in the link that Lucius had sent him - A pity killing - the words consumed him. A tidal wave that washed over and left him numb.
Surprise Appearance by Stede Bonnet & Long-Time Girlfriend and Co-Star, Mary Allamby, at New Zealand Premiere - PICTURES -
Edward couldn’t feel his knee pain anymore. He couldn’t feel anything other than muted surprise. Some part of him - Whatever part was controlling his muscles and their movements, clicked on the link. True journalism had been conducted; there were indeed pictures. Pictures of the couple embracing, posing for the sea of flashing cameras, posing in an embrace for the sea of flashing cameras.
Confirmation of their long-rumoured relationship seemed to be presented tonight with the magnificent-looking pair cozied up together at the directorial debut of the stars’ dear friend, Doug.
Edward sat back down.
He called Stede one last time and listened to the pleasant voicemail message greet him.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed - He knew that their group of friends waiting for the happy, celebratory couple - were still trying to get in contact with him. Their calls came across as a little more desperate now.
Was that how Ed had come across to Stede? Desperate? Straining to latch on and drag him down to Ed’s status - He had once overheard Stede’s agent, Nigel, say that at a dinner party.
Ed had always thought, had always wanted to think, that Stede wanted to join him. Stede had always expressed admiration for Ed's position in life.
“You always seem so collected. Everything you have, you worked for. You earned. And more than anyone else I’ve met in this dreadful city, you have freedom. I’ve always felt so anchored down, Ed, stagnant. Unable to move or go anywhere or do anything that wasn’t the best for a version of myself I can’t even recognize. But not you. You’re living the life that you want. You’re free.”
The life Edward wanted was a life with Stede. And Ed had never felt as free as when he looked into Stede’s eyes and saw the love reflected there. Too late, far, far too late, was Edward realizing that for Stede, a life with Ed didn’t constitute freedom.
Maybe the love he saw reflected was simply his own.
Absentmindedly, Ed pulled out the tiny velvet box that had been secured in his pocket the whole night. It felt unnaturally heavy, as if only now was he able to see its true nature. Only now was he able to see it the way Stede undoubtedly considered Ed.
Another anchor.
Haphazardly, he threw it onto the tracks.